


Native Tongue

by orphan_account



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Esca is aroused he slips back into his native tongue without realizing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Native Tongue

Originally posted to The Eagle Kink meme [here](http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/752.html?thread=72432).

 

Marcus pads into his chambers, touching a rush to the lamp by his bedside. It is late, he had once again fallen victim to his Uncle's generous table, and Esca had been unusually reliable in keeping his cup filled, leaning close over Marcus's shoulder to pour from the decanter as the conversation ebbed and flowed.

Marcus longs less for a cool patch on the linen sheets as the hot, fragrant, insect-loud nights of summer finally grow shorter. The gentle nights mean too that he has more energy to devote to Esca, who grows restless as the Equinox approaches. 

Esca pulls the shades to the veranda and sheds his leggings, making to settle on his pallet in the corner like a rangy hunting dog. Marcus stops him with a grunt.

"Come rest with me tonight," he says, lounging back on the coverlet Esca had turned down for him. 

Esca only hesitates for a moment, but the lamp light licking over his profile reveals nothing, as usual. Esca's face remains passive, his eyes distant, as he washes and oils himself at the stone basin. Marcus will need to work for the crack in Esca's mask. Like all challenges, he craves it. 

Esca finishes his absolutions and stands before Marcus, waiting for Marcus's command. Esca dances to this tune every moment he is awake: as though obstinatation was the only way to water down his obedience.

Marcus lifts the edge of the tunic Esca still stubbornly wears. His cock is soft and nested snugly into the patch of still-damp hair. His balls are rosy and tight, his cock a slightly darker shade, and they stand out as though detached from the pale plains of his pelvis and thighs. 

Marcus cups Esca's balls for a few moments, inspecting their heft, and then gives the end of his cock a pinch, rubbing the loose hood of skin so that the shiny, pink head peeks in and out with its tiny mouth already wet and sticky. 

He rubs until Esca's cock begins a slow rise, bobbing and swaying against the vice of Marcus's fingers, larger and thicker away from the safe haven of Esca's groin. Marcus glances up; Esca's breathing has quickened, but no flinch of face, other than maybe a tightening of his jaw. 

"Turn around," Marcus commands, and Esca does, his cock tugging out of Marcus's fingers. Marcus lifts the back flap of the tunic, tugging it up so that Esca will pull it right off. 

Esca's tight little cheeks rise round and high out of the elegant curve of lower back to leg, and Marcus can't resist the urge to rest his palms in the muscled indentation of each. His hands look too large cupping Esca's slim trunk, his arms dusted darker than Esca's thighs. 

There is a shout from the river, a raft passing the villa, and Esca flinches. Marcus makes an involuntary shushing sound, and pets Esca's left hip, as though calming a restless pony. This earns Marcus what he'd been looking for, a tight-lipped glare from over Esca's shoulder. 

Marcus chuckles and uses his hands to bend Esca forward a bit, pulling him closer to the lectus with a shuffle. Marcus uses his thumbs to spread Esca's cheeks, pulling and rubbing until his view of Esca's shiny hole is wide and delicious. The hole, as though enthusiastic about the inspection, pulses and and contracts with Esca's flexing thighs. 

Marcus has learned many things and has experienced many barbarian delights since being bequeathed his reluctant body slave. One lesson that he never tires of learning is that Esca's body will always respond before his mouth does. 

He pushes the tip of one thumb into Esca's hole, teasing and testing the ease of entry. Esca is generous with the oil and the ruddy skin around his opening shines in the lamplight. Marcus rubs his other thumb in too, easing the hole open so he can have a better look at the vulnerable pinkness inside.

Esca gives an inaudible grunt that Marcus can feel through his grasp and he knows he's stretched far enough. The view is tantalizing; much hard work has gone into training Esca's hole to take Marcus's fingers, the girth of his sex. The first time he took Esca, silent and face down, Esca's back still marked by the slaver's whip, he'd gone too far too fast and Esca had stumbled away with blood smeared between his thighs. Marcus had felt more guilt than he was required to feel and without telling his uncle, had waited two weeks to take Esca again, using the time to become familiar with Esca's mouth. It had been difficult to wait, but could have been far more burden. 

Pleased with what he can see, Marcus eases his grasp and gives Esca's hip a little slap, moving to one side of the lectus to make room. Esca slides onto the couch with the same grace that Marcus admires in all the movements Esca makes: smooth, economical, strong. It's a pity that Marcus never had the chance to see Esca fight. Despite his slender frame, Esca has the carriage of a Briton warrior. 

Marcus runs a hand from Esca's clavicle to the root of his stiff cock, back up and down again, enjoying the acquired taste of Esca's taut stomach, the bump of his ribcage. Esca's eyes stay fixed on the shadowy ceiling, only flicking down when Marcus's hand stays to massage the smooth skin of Esca's abdomen. 

"Breathe," Marcus tells him, watching the line of Esca's chest. Esca lets out the breath he'd been holding and quirks an eyebrow. Marcus gets up from his elbow and begins putting Esca's limbs in order. 

Hands up by his head, pulling Esca's biceps long. Legs wide, held up and out by Marcus's forearm. Marcus uses his other hand to push at his breechclout, the sight of Esca spread and ready, cock twitching, igniting his own arousal.

Esca tilts his head to look down his own torso, arms still but hands curled into fists, breath catching as he watches Marcus's cock swell larger. Marcus bumps the head of his cock, still pliable, against the wrinkly sun of Esca's hole, rubbing there like he might pleasure a woman. His cock gets harder knowing that he pleasures Esca just the same, that there is no denying Esca's quick breaths and flushed throat, though his eyes stay flinty as ever. Marcus imagines that Esca is growing wet with want, the more that Marcus rubs and strokes with just his cock, the flutter of Esca's opening catching like a beckon for Marcus to enter. 

Marcus's cock, shiny with oil and his own juices, looks huge against the peek of Esca's asshole. Marcus gives an experimental push with the purple head and Esca's resistance is just as delicious as it was the first time.

Marcus leaves his cock there, his back bent awkwardly but enjoying the flirt of anticipation, his hips rocking gently so that the head of his cock is nibbled just a little by Esca's eager hole with each nudge. 

The chest under his arm has gone still again. Marcus looks up from the lovely visage of his potential breech and sighs. 

"For the love of heaven, Esca, breathe." 

Esca glares down at him, mask almost completely gone. It doesn't take as much needling these days, it would seem. 

"I hate you," Esca whispers, and uses his hips to stab himself up onto Marcus's cockhead. 

"Argh," Marcus gasps in surprise, and his own hips stutter forward, pushing in more of his shaft, dragging against the slippery heat of Esca's insides, the angle bad, but so, so beautiful.

Marcus longs to rise up on his knees for the purchase to thrust into Esca hard and deep, but his left leg won't allow it. Instead he pushes Esca onto his side, throwing one leg up and over so that he can pierce Esca between his scissored legs in relative comfort. The position also reveals a most pleasant view of Marcus's long cock disappearing in and out of Esca's stretched and straining asshole. 

Marcus lets his hips take over as the sweat begins to trickle down his back. Esca's ass can't quite fit the entirety of Marcus's cock. Something in the deep halts his thrusts with hard give and every attempt to fully impale himself rips a sharp gasp from Esca. 

Esca is uncommonly beautiful at the best of times, barbaric and angular and untouchable. Here, under Marcus, hands fisted in linen and his head thrown back, mouth wide for breath, he's otherworldly. 

"Want it, come on, damn you, Esca," Marcus mutters, shifting and bending Esca under his thrusts, wrenching Esca's cheeks apart for better access. He wants it deep, as deep as his cock will go. He wants to press a seal of his flesh to Esca's, drill his seed into Esca's guts so that it won't drip out again. 

Esca's ass rises to meet his, thrust for thrust, and Marcus looks away from their joining long enough to lean forward and nose at the sweat gathering under Esca's ear. Esca's hair tickles Marcus's face and under the scents of male body and lamp oil and lye, Esca's skin smells like morning forest.

Marcus can feel it, both in Esca's taunt body and his own loins, his cock has reached as deep as it can, any harder and it feels as though he might stab Esca straight through. Marcus rears up and pulls almost all the way out of Esca's body, Esca's asshole gaping wide and pink before being filled deep again and again.

"Seahd, fuath," Esca whimpers, his cold eyes squeezed shut, reduced to his native tongue. Marcus is surprised by the final rush that lilting voice gives him and buries himself one last time, grunting loudly as he empties himself into Esca. 

Marcus feels good, satisfied like the day he woke from his first restful sleep after the second surgery. He would like to stay this way, pressed into Esca, warm and sticky, but Esca is still fidgeting and trying to rub himself at an awkward angle against the couch under Marcus. 

Marcus pulls out a little bit to see his slowly softening cock glazed in white. He breathes in the smell of his own release, rich and tangy at the back of his throat. Using two fingers, he pushes the bulk of his cock back into Esca, slowly rolling his hips and pushing the slippery mess further into the sensitive little hole. 

Esca groans under him, pushing himself enough to get a hand onto his own cock, curved and trapped and nearly pulsing clear liquid. Marcus watches Esca bring himself off in a few short tugs, maintaining his lazy humping until his softened cock squelches out of Esca's hole. 

Esca doesn't make another noise as he comes, his face looks more resigned than euphoric, but Marcus still considers their coupling a success. 

He tugs the sheets up over their cooling bodies. He knows that Esca will leave the couch as soon as he's recovered himself again, so Marcus takes advantage of Esca's relaxed sprawl and gathers him up in a crush of limbs, planning to sleep before Esca escapes. 

"Tomorrow we hunt," he murmers into Esca's damp hair. "Boar, I think." 

Esca doesn't say anything.


End file.
